


Mirage

by hummerhouse



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003)
Genre: Gen, Psychological Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-10 16:37:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2032131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hummerhouse/pseuds/hummerhouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Disclaimer: The TMNT are not mine. No money being made.<br/>Word Count: 5,145 One shot<br/>Rating: R language, violence/gore<br/>Summary: Unsatisfied and antsy teenagers sometimes get exactly what they wish for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mirage

**Author's Note:**

> The preview art for this fic was created by the extremely talented NinjaTertel from DevianArt. The artwork was the prize for the winning fic in a TMNTFans group contest held there in 2012.  
> 

            “Ya’ can’t keep telling us ta stay down here when ya’ know how much we’re needed topside,” Raph argued, his tone bitter.

            “For once I have to agree with Raph, sensei,” Leo said.  “All we’re doing is . . . is hiding!  It feels dishonorable.”

            “There is no dishonor in avoiding a fight where your enemy has a distinct advantage,” Master Splinter announced firmly.  “If you were not so young this would be self-evident.”

            “We’ve already been through plenty of things and come out on top,” Mikey said.  “We kicked Shredder’s bu . . . armor, we put Bishop in his place, and we’ve even been in space.  It’s not fair to give us a time out ‘cause you’re afraid we might get hurt, not after we’ve proved we can handle ourselves.”

            It was Don’s turn to plead their case.  “Just because Karai and Hun have teamed up doesn’t make them any more formidable than when they both worked for the Shredder.”

            “When they worked for Shredder, they were not focused on destroying the four of you to the exclusion of everything else,” Master Splinter pointed out.  “This obsession of Karai’s to have your heads must be allowed to fade and only time will accomplish that.  The loss of the evil being who she considered her father is still a fresh wound; you must give it time to heal.”

            “How much time?” Raph asked, exasperated.  “We’ve been down here for two weeks and it ain’t getting any better.  The Purple Dragons are going ape shit ‘cause they know we ain’t around ta stop ‘em.  Casey keeps trying ta handle them by himself and he’s already gotten his ribs busted for his trouble.”

            “April is afraid to keep her shop open,” Don said.  “She said there are Purple Dragons standing across the street scaring customers away and at night the Foot makes no effort to hide the fact that they’re hanging around as well.”

            “Karai can be patient, but Hun is nuts,” Mikey chimed in.  “If we don’t discourage his guys, how long will it be before they bust into April’s place and hurt her?”

            “Then it would seem prudent for both Casey and Miss O’Neil to stay with us for a few days, or to go to the farmhouse where they will not be harassed,” Master Splinter said.

            “If Casey runs off he’ll never get his rep back,” Raph said.  “They’ll peg him as a coward and the fights he gets into will be even worse.”

            “April has to make a living,” Leo said.  “Closing her shop will only encourage Hun’s people into trashing it and destroying her home again.”

            “I understand all of these arguments, my sons,” Master Splinter said.  “This current situation is unfortunate, but your proposals for handling it are not acceptable.  Rushing topside to confront Karai is reckless; it is an example of the rashness of youth.  Skill and luck have been on your side, but skill does not belong to you alone and luck may turn.”

            “Ya’ gotta stop treating us like we were five!” Raph shouted, losing his temper.  “What’s the point of a lifetime of lessons if ya’ won’t let us practice what we learned?”

            “When you are capable of having a conversation without this sudden burst of anger, then perhaps you will be old enough to understand,” Master Splinter said sternly.  His sons all began talking at once and their father rapped the floor sharply with his cane to stop them.  “Enough!  This matter is not up for debate.  You will not leave the lair until I give permission to do so.  Donatello, you may wish to advise Miss O’Neil and Casey of your limitations so that they can plan accordingly.”

            Turning, Master Splinter walked purposefully out of the dojo and towards his room.

            “Dammit, he’s suffocating me,” Raph growled harshly.

            “He’s old, that’s the problem,” Mikey announced.  “He wants to sit around and drink tea.  He doesn’t understand us or how things work in the real world.”

            “Sensei is overprotective,” Don stated positively.  “We might as well be in a cage for the rest of our lives.”

            “I feel as though he has no confidence in us,” Leo said in a low voice.  “Doesn’t he realize we can take care of ourselves?”

            “Sometimes I hate him,” Raph said.  “I don’t wanna be on a leash anymore; I ain’t his pet.”

            “This bites,” Mikey said in a huff.  “We’d be better off on our own.”

            A murmur of agreement reached Master Splinter, who stood inside his room listening to his son’s conversation.  With a heavy sigh, he slid the shoji closed and moving further into his room, seated himself on his meditation mat.

            Perhaps he had not made the best decision, but his children were on the verge of racing topside to confront Karai, Hun, and their minions.  For once, Leo’s anger at Karai had clouded his usually impeccable judgment and his plan of attack was extremely flawed.

            If Master Splinter had not been guarding against just such an excursion as the one they’d planned, they would have gone with saying a word to him.  Of one thing their father was sure; if they had left he would have lost one or all of his sons.

            Master Splinter’s orders that they would not leave the lair had been delivered stoically, and he had taken their protests in the same manner.  But deep inside their words once he was out of sight had hurt, just as they would any father.

            It also hurt that they believed he would abandon their friends.  April O’Neil and Casey Jones’ existence was irrevocably entwined with theirs and he would protect them with his life.  Master Splinter could not in good conscious offer his son’s lives though, not when there was a viable alternative.

            Master Splinter knew that his sons were speaking out in anger and frustration and that they didn’t mean the acerbic things they were saying.  They were teenagers, caught between child and adult, and that was a difficult place to dwell.  He wished that he could think of a way to teach them how important it was to have someone in their lives that was mature enough to guide them and to teach them right from wrong.

            As he slipped into meditation, hoping to find answers to his child rearing dilemma, another consciousness registered Master Splinter’s thoughts.  It likewise felt his pain and decided to give the aging rat master what he most desired.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

            Leo was now alone in the dojo; his brothers had scattered to their own pursuits and to lick their wounds.  For the blue banded leader, practice was his greatest solace; the more tumultuous his thoughts, the harder he worked.

            He felt horribly guilty at his open defiance of Master Splinter.  Leo knew he should never have spoken out the way he had; he had allowed his emotions to control him and had forgotten his duty to respect his father.

            Stopping mid-kata, Leo fell to his knees and held one of his swords in front of his face so that he could stare at it.  He was so deep in thought that at first he didn’t notice the slight change in his reflection but something finally pulled him out of his reverie.

            Staring at himself with growing horror, Leo saw that he was no longer sporting a blue mask.  Instead, the mask that now covered his head and half his face was black.  The lower half of his face was crisscrossed with wicked scars, a split in his lip so badly healed that it gave his mouth a lopsided appearance.

            The room was growing steadily darker around him and a cold wind began to blow across his skin.  Leo’s head came up sharply and he found that he knelt on a rooftop, the sharp sting of ice crystals hitting him as they fell from an overcast sky.

            Standing in front of him was Karai, her eyes glittering with maniacal glee.  All around them were Foot soldiers and at her signal, they dropped to their knees.

            “Rise, Leonardo,” Karai instructed.

            Leo slowly stood; his grip tight on his swords.  Glancing at them he saw they were covered in blood.

            “You have sealed your place in the Foot clan this night,” Karai said.  “This is a victory for us all and for you most especially.  Father will have his final vengeance when you complete the job you began for him.”

            Her hand came up as she spoke, pointing to bodies strewn across the rooftop.  Eyes widening, Leo saw Casey, Michelangelo, Raphael, and Donatello lying there lifeless. With quick understanding he realized that he was the one who had tricked them into coming to this rooftop and it was by his hand that they had perished.

            Turning back to her, Leo tried to process what had changed.  Vague memories flitted across his mind; memories of turning his back on his family and embracing the Shredder.  Training with Shredder, having his thoughts corrupted and twisted by the Shredder’s evil teachings.  Above all else, coming to believe that his own family hated him and wanted him dead.

            The sound of a struggle brought him back to the moment.  As Karai stepped to Leo’s side, two Foot ninja dragged a battered form before them.  Master Splinter.

            Pushing the aged rat to his knees, the ninja pressed down on his shoulders, bending him forward in a parody of a bow.  Splinter’s eyes lifted to Leo’s and remained fixed there.

            “One final blow,” Karai said, her mouth near Leo’s head and her voice a smooth caress.  “Finish it, Leonardo.”

            Leo’s hand lifted, his katana gripped tightly in his fist.  Splinter watched him, the knowledge of his impending death bringing no fear to a face twisted by anguish.

            “What have you done, Leonardo?” Master Splinter asked.  “You wished to make your own choices and this is what has come of it.  Will you dance on our graves, or will you finally understand that now you are alone?”

            Leo’s arm trembled and he pressed his lips together, finding his resolve.  He could hear the quickening of Karai’s breath as Leo stood poised to end his own father’s life.

            Deep inside Leo’s torn mind was the thought that this could not be real.  A simple disagreement could not have forged such evil from the Turtle’s heart.  Even as he argued with himself, the sword came down in a killing arc.

            “My son!” Master Splinter shouted.

            “No!” Leo screamed in terror and threw himself backwards, dropping the sword.  He fell, not on rough concrete, but upon softer mats and his eyes flew open.

            He was back inside the lair, lying on his carapace inside the dojo.  His sword was on the floor nearby, polished and clean, no trace of blood upon it.

            Leo put his head down and stared at the ceiling, breathing deeply in order to control his pounding heart.  It was a vision, he told himself, just a vision. 

            Knowing that did not stop the pain that clutched at his heart.  Like with a vivid nightmare, the residual feelings clung to him, making him cold even inside the warmth of his home.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

            Stomping out of the dojo, Raph grumbled beneath his breath as he made straight for the elevator.  He half hoped that Leo would think he was disobeying Master Splinter and trying to go topside.  It would help to relieve some of Raph’s anger if he could lash out at his oldest brother.

            For once, Leo wasn’t right on his tail and that fact pissed Raph off further.  Forgotten was the fact that Leo was likewise upset with their father’s decision; all Raph cared about at the moment was that his muscles twitched with frustration and his normally reliable outlet was ignoring him.

            Inside the garage, Raph pushed aside a pile of things Don had left on the workbench, finding a sort of satisfaction with the sound of metal crashing to the concrete floor.  Taking a motorcycle gas tank from a nearby shelf, Raph set it on the bench and began sanding the bondo he’d used to repair a crack in the part.

            It wasn’t the same as being able to hit something, but the repetitive motion did help to work his muscles.  While he sanded, Raph stared into the gleaming metal that surrounded the patch job, noting that the anger he felt inside was well reflected on his face.

            As he stared at himself, he saw the furious sneer curl upwards until he was baring razor sharp teeth; incisors that looked as if they’d been filed to wicked points.  Raph’s gold eyes were shining with blood lust and indeed, blood spurted up from beneath his fists.

            Panting, Raph stepped back, the heat of fresh blood warming his hands.  He was in an alley, the sky dark and the narrow space between buildings even darker.

            “He . . . he wasn’t tryin’ ta take anything,” a thin voice from nearby shook with fright.  “We j . . . just needed someplace warm.”

            “This is my place,” Raph heard himself say, his tone low and gravely.  His head turned to take in the large concrete sewer access tube.  Home, according to his mind.

            Looking towards the owner of that scared voice, Raph saw a homeless derelict; too thin, too dirty, and too unhealthy to be a danger.  His anger flared anyway; this was Raph’s alley and he thought that by now, everyone on the street was aware of that.

            Raph would make an example of him, just as he had done with all the others.  _They_ were human; _they_ could go to a shelter for assistance.  They had not been thrown out of their home by their own father because they were considered too dangerous and volatile to remain.

            Stalking towards the man who was too frozen by fright to move, Raph’s feet touched something soft and yielding.  He suddenly felt that he didn’t want to know, but his head turned down of its own accord.

            Sprawled on the ground, his body covered in gaping wounds and blood, was Casey Jones.

            “Shit,” Raph murmured as a cold hand gripped his heart.  “Shit, shit, shit!” he shouted with growing strength and volume.

            Swinging away from the sight, Raph’s hand collided with something that hit the ground with a dull clang.  Throwing his body forward, Raph crashed into the garage shelves and fell to the floor with them as they broke beneath his weight.

            On his hands and knees, Raph gasped for breath and then retched as the waking vision clung to him.  He started to shake, suffering the after effects of such a strong rush of adrenaline.

            Raph knew his temper often got the better of him, but never to this extent.  Not ever.  Not to the point that he would have to be sent away because he was a danger to his family.

            Master Splinter always made it better.  His father always found a way to control Raph’s inner evil.  His father always rescued him.

            His father.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

            Mikey could think of absolutely nothing that piqued his interest as he left the dojo; his mind completely taken over by the fact that Master Splinter thought he was still a baby.

            That was what it boiled down to, Mikey told himself, taking the stairs two at a time.  Rushing into the bathroom, he slammed the door with the petulance of a spoiled child and then grinned.  If Master Splinter thought he was a baby, then he would act like one.

            Since there was nothing else he wanted to do, nothing else that Master Splinter would _allow_ him to do, Mikey decided to take a long, hot shower.  Or maybe a bath, one that was full of bubbles.  He could lie back and imagine that he was somewhere else; someplace where he could do what he wanted, when he wanted.

            Mikey quickly put the stopper into the drain and turned the tap until the water that ran from it was the perfect temperature.  Next he added the soap that would produce his bubbles, poured from a container shaped like Spiderman.  His grin broadened as he held onto the illusion of pretending to be a kid again.

            Stripping off his gear, Mikey slid into the tub, relaxing against the back and sinking into the water until the bubbles tickled his chin.  He wiggled his toes and watched the bubbles move before his eyes drifted over to the faucet.

            It was Leo’s week to scrub the bathroom, and of course everything gleamed.  Mikey could see himself clearly in the shine and twisted his head from side to side as he admired his reflection.

            After a moment, he noticed that the silver metal seemed to be getting darker.  Mikey had used this bubble bath before and knew it couldn’t be having an adverse effect on the faucet.

            Sitting up, Mikey crawled forward until his face was inches from the faucet, trying to understand the optical illusion he was seeing.  The reflection from his eyes changed from bright blue to a deeper shade and the corners of his mouth, almost always turned upwards, took on the maniacal lines of a forced smile.

            _“I’m going to get them, tonight, tonight.  I’m going to get them,”_ Mikey sang to himself.

            Blinking in momentary confusion, Mikey looked down and found that he was perched atop a huge pile of junk.  Jagged lightening cut the dark sky, but it was far away from the junk yard that was his home.

            He had lived here since he was a tot.  Some stuff had fallen on him in the sewers when he was a tiny turtle and he had changed.  Mikey remembered that much, just as he remembered that a rat had scooped him up along with the three other turtles who had been next to him.

            They had all started to change and he had watched it happen.  Mikey didn’t like the way the rat looked as it grew larger and he had run away.  He’d tried to get one of the other turtles to go with him, but the one he’d wanted had shaken his head no before rolling over and going back to sleep.

            Mikey found the junkyard and it became his home.  He didn’t go underground unless he absolutely had to; he didn’t like it under there, it was too dark.  The junkyard was a good place; always changing, always exciting.  He dodged the people during the day and chased away the bums at night.

            When the people put watch dogs in the yard, Mikey hunted them and found their meat to be tasty.  Eventually the people stopped using dogs and Mikey had to scavenge further for meat, but there was always a ready supply of stray cats and dogs.  Sometimes he snagged someone’s pet poodle just for the fun of it.  He liked to hear the fat ladies scream and cry.

            Tonight Mikey hadn’t left the yard because someone was trespassing.  He could hear their voices and they didn’t sound like bums; they sounded like thieves. 

            Mikey wanted to know what people tasted like.  He’d killed a bum one night, but the man smelled so bad that Mikey couldn’t bring himself to take a bite.  Maybe thieves were cleaner.

            The gleam of a flashlight shone almost directly beneath him and Mikey tensed.  As the shadowed form passed close, Mikey shoved the heavy stack of junk that he had rigged, sending a thousand pounds of garbage toppling over.

            A loud cry echoed through the yard and Mikey nimbly leaped and scurried down to the ground.  He heard a voice and spun around, but it was only a cell phone, the speaker activated.

            “Don?  Donatello?” the voice said, rising as its agitation grew.  “Donny, answer me!”

            Mikey grinned at it and turned back to his dinner.  Digging through the junk, he saw the body of his victim, happy to note that it wasn’t breathing.

            Pulling away more of his booby trap, Mikey realized that the body was that of a giant, mutated turtle.  Frozen for a moment, Mikey began to frantically paw at the junk, uncovering the turtle’s face.

            Suddenly numb, Mikey stared down at his victim.  It was the turtle who he had tried to convince to leave with him so many years ago.

            Rain began to fall, coming down in a sudden torrent.  Mikey collapsed next to the prone form of what he now knew had been his brother.

            Water rushing into his nostrils had Mikey choking and coughing as he jerked upright, creating a mini tidal wave that flooded the floor around the tub.

            Mikey grasped the sides of the tub as his chest heaved in panicked fear.  It wasn’t real; none of that was real.  He must have fallen asleep in the warm water; it wouldn’t be the first time that had happened.

            The nightmare was real enough to Mikey’s emotions though and a hot tear slid down his cheek.  He didn’t want to think he could have wound up as some feral beast if he hadn’t remained with his father and brothers.

            Mikey didn’t want to believe that he would be capable of that kind of evil without the proper guidance and nurturing.  He was just afraid it wasn’t impossible.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

            Upon entering his lab, Don went straight to his computer and sent a message off to April, letting her know that he and his brothers had been effectively grounded by their sensei.  He suggested that she talk Casey into going to the country with her, telling her that their father was working on a plan to get rid of the Foot, but that they all knew Casey wasn’t patient enough to wait and that she needed to protect him.

            Don didn’t let on that what he really wanted was to get her out of harm’s way, because she was both stubborn and at times, radically feminist.  April would have resented being told to leave her shop because she was in danger, but she would do it if she thought it was the best way to protect someone else.

            After the message had been sent, Don sat and stared at his desktop picture, his mind lost in thought.  He hoped that Master Splinter was indeed working out a solution to their current problem.  April and Casey couldn’t stay away indefinitely and Don was afraid that Karai’s anger wasn’t going to diminish anytime soon.

            As much as Don loved to spend time in his intellectual pursuits, he also loved going topside with his brothers.  Exploring the city, gathering supplies, ridding the streets of bad guys, and helping their human friends were all things that filled Donatello with purpose.

            His brothers probably thought that Don was content to remain locked away in his lab, safely visiting the world through his laptop, but that was not the case.  While he did enjoy doing that, spending too much time staring at the small glittering screen had a stultifying effect on his senses.  Getting out and running the rooftops kept Don from feeling completely stifled and helped him to think clearly.

            Not for the first time in his life Don felt as though he didn’t belong.  His genius made it hard for his family to identify with him and he knew they couldn’t possibly understand him.  Sometimes his brothers acknowledged his gifts, but usually only when he satisfied some need of theirs.  Don knew that Master Splinter didn’t grasp a tenth of the things he tried to explain to his father.

            Those things left Don feeling very lonely at times.  He often wished for a different kind of life, one where his talents were appreciated and where his intellect could be used for the greater good.

            His ruminations were interrupted by movement on his computer screen.  Don was seated with his hands in his lap and therefore hadn’t touched any keys, but nevertheless something on the monitor looked different.

            Leaning forward, he saw his reflection, but somehow it didn’t look quite like him.  The image had no mask and seemed to be wearing a white lab coat.  What struck Don the most was the eyes that looked back at him.  They were flat and emotionless.

            With a shock, Don found that he was no longer in his lab, but he was certainly in _a_ lab.  It was huge and well appointed; filled with every piece of equipment he had ever hoped for.  Directly in front of him was a technician seated at a computer console and Don stood looking over his shoulder at heat signatures coming from several bodies as they ran through a hallway in the building.

            “I heard the alarm, Donatello,” Agent John Bishop said as he walked up to stand next to the turtle.

            “They’ve probably come to free this,” Don said, waving at the mutated crocodilian form that was held in suspended animation within a large test tube.  Don didn’t even look towards it; his eyes never left the monitor.

            “I told you long ago that someday you would have to deal with them,” Bishop said.

            “You needn’t remind me of my duty, Bishop,” Don said coldly.  “I’m quite aware of what needs to be done.  I would prefer to handle this on my own terms if you don’t mind.  Your suggestions tend to leave me without viable material for experimentation.”

            “I’m sorry sir,” Bishop said, not sounding as though he was.  “Are you sure you can do what’s necessary?  These invaders are . . . .”

            Don turned to stare at him, causing Bishop to break off mid-sentence.  People who got on Donatello’s bad side tended to disappear.

            “I’m quite aware of who these invaders are,” Don informed him.

            “Sir, they’ve reached quadrant 7b,” the technician said.

            Don stepped over to the console and keyed in a set of commands before pressing a button.  Within seconds all five of the figures on the screen became stationary as the gas Don had fed into the corridor rendered them lifeless.

            Bishop followed Donatello meekly as the turtle strode from the room.  Other scientists joined them as they made their way to the corridor where Don’s victims were now sprawled in their forever sleep.

            Air valves had dissipated the fumes from the noxious gas and cleared the air.  The pleased smile on Don’s face slid away as he came across the first body.

            April O’Neil lay dead at his feet, her beautiful face twisted in agony.  Looking beyond her, Don spotted his brothers and a short distance from them was Master Splinter.

            Pressing a hand to his forehead, Don’s eyes widened in horror as he shouted, “What have I done?”

            Stumbling back, Don tripped and fell.  His chair flipped over with him and landed on his legs and Don kicked at it, sending it spinning aside.  It was then he realized he was in his lab, inside the lair.

            Scrambling to his feet, Don ran for the door and wrenched it open.  No one was in sight as he raced across the lair, yelling, “Sensei!  Father!”

            Almost simultaneously, the garage door opened and Raph plummeted out, running as fast as he could for Master Splinter’s room.  “Sensei!” he cried in his loudest voice.

            Mikey flew down from the upstairs landing, ignoring the stairs in his rush to reach his father.  He was moving almost as soon as his feet touched down, shouting, “Master Splinter!”

            Leo almost smashed into Don as he staggered out of the dojo, intent on reaching Master Splinter’s room.  His voice was low as he moaned over and over, “Father, father.”

            The shoji slid open and Master Splinter stepped out of his room, his eyes wide with alarm.  All four of his sons were barreling towards him and he lifted a hand to stop them.

            “What has happened?  Are we under attack?” he asked quickly.

            Leo threw himself onto his knees in front of this father.  “No, father, it was a vision.  A horrible, evil vision.”

            Raph kneeled next to him, “I had one too; blood, there was b . . . blood everywhere, on my hands . . . .”  He stared at them as though the blood was still there.

            Don and Mikey joined their brothers, prostrating themselves before Master Splinter.  “I killed Donny,” Mikey moaned against the floor.

            “I was w . . . working with Bishop,” Don stammered.  “I killed you all.”

            “Please my sons,” Master Splinter admonished in his firmest voice.  “This occurred just now?”

            Before they had a chance to respond, a pool of blue light radiated throughout the lair as a portal opened.  A huge figure stepped through before the portal shrank to nothing.

            “Daimyo?”  Master Splinter walked towards his friend.  “I was not made aware of your impending visit.”

            “My apologies old friend,” the Daimyo replied.  “I was in the process of reaching out to you when I felt your distress and as a father myself, it pained me deeply.”

            Master Splinter nodded in the direction of his children.  “Did you send them these ‘visions’ of which they speak?”

            “Yes I did,” the Daimyo answered as he flourished his war staff.  “I gave your sons what they each wished for, if only for a few moments.  I find that can be an excellent teaching tool.”

            Turning to look at his sons, he was surprised to find that none of them displayed anger, not even Raphael.

            “I’m so sorry for my disrespect, Master Splinter,” Leo said.  “You were right and we were behaving impulsively.”

            “I know you aren’t trying to keep us caged up,” Don said contritely.  “I just felt helpless and said the first stupid thing that came to me.”

            “I don’t wanna be alone,” Mikey said, looking up at his father with sad eyes.  “Family is everything.”

            Raph’s head was bowed, his eyes refusing to meet his father’s.  “I don’t hate ya’,” he said in a low voice.  “I need your guidance.  Please be patient with me.”

            Master Splinter stepped forward and placed a hand on Raph’s shoulder.  “Of course I will, Raphael.  I will never abandon any of you over mere words or foolish actions.  Come, stand up my sons.  We have an honored visitor; let us make him welcome.  Perhaps he will listen to our dilemma and offer some useful advice on how we may deal with the problem.”

            As his turtles rose to their feet, Master Splinter offered each of them a warm embrace and then sent them to the kitchen to prepare a meal.  He knew that later they would talk to each other and to him about the visions the Daimyo had given them.

            Looking over at their visitor, the aged rat smiled and then the smile broadened as the Daimyo winked at him.  Master Splinter decided that with the help of their friends, perhaps evil would not ever reach his sons.

The End


End file.
